


Too Hot

by FortunesRevolver



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: I don't even know what I'm doing anymore., I'm sorry., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 22:16:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5682796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortunesRevolver/pseuds/FortunesRevolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps that second sip of Elixir wasn't such a good idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Hot

Heat pools in Mikleo’s stomach just moments after the elixir passes his lips. For a Water Seraph, the sudden sensation of warmth spreading across his body down to the very tips of his fingers is foreign. His clothes suddenly feel too hot, too tight against his body as his breathing becomes laboured and his thoughts hazy. He wants to blame it on the trial, on the blistering heat that surrounds them, but he knows that _his_ sweat has nothing to do with fire.

When they finally arrive back into the open air, it’s like being doused in ice water. Mikleo feels himself shiver, the stark contrast of hot and cold makes his body buzz. He shuts his eyes and just tries to breathe, forcing back the misty thoughts that have been crawling in the more dangerous parts of his mind.

“Mikleo?” Mikleo doesn’t need to open his eyes to know it’s Sorey talking to him, and the hand that lands on his shoulder feels like he’s been thrown back in the trial they’ve just left. His breathing hitches and he jerks around, feeling his thoughts crash to a halt with such force he almost chokes. He can only imagine what is showing on his face, because Sorey’s worry only seems to increase as he pulls Mikleo besides one of the buildings, out of sight from prying eyes.

Sorey’s concern, however, is lost on Mikleo. He’s aware Sorey is speaking, but he _sees_ more than he hears. Suddenly he is hyperaware of _every_ _little move_ Sorey makes, from the movement of his lips to the wind blowing his hair. His heartbeat is erratic, rushing loudly in his ears as he tries to maintain a straight face and even breathing.

But Sorey… _Sorey._ Sorey is standing inches away and all Mikleo wants to do is throw his arms around Sorey’s neck and press their bodies as close together as physically possible and just _melt_. Even the armatus doesn’t feel like it would eliminate enough distance, and Mikleo fumbles clumsily with his words as he tries to assure Sorey he’s alright, but he’s _not_.

He’s far from ‘alright’ and he _knows_ it, but everything his instincts are telling him he wants are something he doesn’t dare reach for. Not with precious, _pure_ , and all too kind Sorey. Because he knows, without a doubt, Sorey would do anything and everything for him, just as he would in return. And he doesn’t want their actions to be based or influenced by the contents of a bottle.

“Sorey, I…” Mikleo’s tongue feels like it’s swelling, forcing his voice back down his throat and into his stomach. He doesn’t know what to do but keep breathing and _heavens_ , even covered in sweat and ash Sorey smells _wonderful_ , and the droplets of water glistening near his mouth _really_ need to go and all it would take is a quick _flick_ of his tongue and—

Mikleo inhales sharply, the sudden shift causing him to stumble back and startle Sorey. _Why?_ repeats over and over again in his mind, as he tries to resist the urge to _run_. Run and run and run until he can’t run anymore and just collapse somewhere at the bottom of Biroclef Ridge and _pray_ it’s enough to force this feeling away.

“I…” he tries again, but his words are cut off as Sorey steps forward and pulls him into a tight embrace. For a moment, Mikleo completely forgets how to breathe as he stumbles along with Sorey’s movements until they are sitting on the ground against a rocky wall. The only thing he can sense or feel or even think is just _Sorey, Sorey, Sorey_. His toned chest, the firmness of his embrace, the mixed aroma, the sound of his gentle and all-too-understanding voice…

“It’s alright, Mikleo,” Sorey smiles and runs his fingers through Mikleo’s hair. “Rose told me about the elixir.” He pauses, then coughs, looking sheepish. “Or… explained a little what it could do. We can stay out here for a while; I’ll help you through this.”

“People are going to see,” Mikleo forces out, trying to concentrate on something factual and solid that is _not_ how much he wants to ravish Sorey’s _everything._

“That’s okay,” Sorey shrugs and pulls Mikleo closer, crossing his legs to form a seat in his lap. “I don’t mind if I look weird to them.”

Mikleo feels lips brush against his forehead, and he can’t begin to understand how Sorey makes everything feel _so_ much better and so much worse all at once. The burning in his stomach is dulling to a comfortable warmth that is far better than whatever he was suffering before. All he knows that, right here, it’s enough, and maybe, just maybe, once the effects of the elixir fade and he can breathe normally again, they can reach out and try. On their own terms.

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~He's too hot~~~ _Hot damn_  
>  Make a dragon wanna retire man
> 
>  
> 
> I don't know what this was either. Twilight-Symphony said a thing and it just ran from there. I'm so sorry. ~~Only I'm not. Not really.~~


End file.
